Where the Truth Lies
by Beefcake Pantyhose
Summary: Stiles always thought that werewolves were a myth but he was proven wrong. The lines of reality and myth are blurred with the arrival of a new girl. Is he misunderstood or simply paranoid?


**Do not own Teen Wolf or any Characters within.**

Scott McCall was a werewolf; a bonafide change during the full moon, hairy, fanged, and huge claws werewolf. Stiles Stilinski couldn't believe how his sophomore year was turning out and he could only hope it didn't end with his death. Ever since he dragged Scott out to look for the murdered body of a young woman he heard his father talk about over the police scanner, neither teenager's life had been the same.

Scott's life had the most obvious changes, being that he could hear, see, and smell better than any human alive. He also got the added bonus of increased speed, agility, and strength. Scott now dominated over the lacrosse field and Stiles could admit to himself that he was slightly jealous of Scott's new prowess. The jealously was short lived once the chatty teen thought of the price Scott has to pay to have those abilities. The new lycanthrope was learning to control these abilities but there were instances where Scott would almost lose all rational thought. Derek Hale, the resident born werewolf, helped when he could but his methods led Stiles to believe the dark haired male didn't have a clue as to what he was doing. The lessons were erratic at best and Scott had a hard time fitting school, family, friends, and his social life along with his werewolf lessons. Derek also had a life of his own; at least that was what Stiles assumed. The older werewolf was the loner paradigm and when he wasn't sulking around the remains of his burnt down house, God only knew what he did with his time. Derek seemed to have a "sink or swim" attitude towards teaching and put Scott into more danger than teaching him anything. The few practical lessons, such as changing on command, were far and few in between.

Scott was also in constant danger due to an Alpha werewolf that was bent on having the newly made Beta kill with him and willing to kill Scott if the Alpha didn't get his way. Not only was Scott in danger but those around him, particularly Stiles since he was so close to Scott and always seemed to be in the middle of things.

Sometimes Stiles thought about washing his hands of the whole situation and getting out of dodge. He was tempted to forget the events of that fateful night and go on with his life without Scott. Scott was his best friend but he valued his life and the constant peril was wracking his nerves. Guilt always immediately followed these thoughts. Stiles could never abandon Scott, they have been friends since pre-school and he couldn't just shake off that kind of bond and history. He loved Scott in a brotherly kind of way and he could never bring himself to abandon his best friend; especially in Scott's time of need. If Stiles thought the whole mess was a complete nightmare, he couldn't imagine what it was like to actually go through the changes. It seemed to Stiles that Scott was split into two beings; Scott, his fellow awkward outcast that he hung out with since forever; and the wolf, a mindless animal with a thirst for blood and a temper to match. Stiles didn't know how Scott dealt with the knowledge that he was no longer human and there was a possibility that he would never be normal again. There was also the small part of Stiles that blamed himself for Scott's predicament. If only he minded his own business when his father got the call over the radio; if only he could have quelled his morbid curiosity of finding a dead body; many "if only" scenarios ran through his head at night, cluttering his mind and it kept Stiles awake at night.

Guilt wasn't the only thing that kept Stiles from getting a decent night's rest.

Stiles stared at his ceiling, wishing his mind would stop whirring a mile a minute and be at peace. He was acutely aware of the bright red numbers glaring to the side of him. He refused to look at his clock, aware that they would tell him the exact same time he checked what seemed hours ago. During these sleepless nights, timed stood still and it seemed as if day would never come. Stiles didn't even bother closing his eyes because he knew it was futile. He couldn't stop thinking about all the scary things that could go bump in the night. Different scenarios played over and over across his mind. Where Scott would wolf out and tear into his throat; if not Scott, then Derek. The bigger male had threatened him enough with the violent act and Stiles wondered if Derek know how much it really frightened him. The movies would sometimes turn into nightmares where he would constantly try to escape all three werewolves but no matter how fast he ran or where he went, they were there; A trio of eyes that glowed ungodly and unnatural colors; staring into his soul, ready to end his life without a second thought. Stiles always woke up before the wolves could get to him but some nights he wished they did capture him. Rip him to pieces and make all the terror stop. He didn't want to worry about werewolves hunting in the night. He didn't want to worry that his best friend would give into his new nature and destroy everything around him. He didn't want to worry that the nightmares would never stop and he wouldn't get a decent night's rest ever again.

Before Scott turned into a werewolf, Stiles had the typical fears of a teenage male in America. He worried if he looked good to the opposite sex, if his dad would take away his car for writing about the history of the waffle iron in economics class, if he'd ever make first string, and if Lydia (the resident queen bee and most beautiful girl he had ever seen) would ever give him the time of day. Now his worries consisted of how to repel werewolves and if his best friend would ever lose control and eat him. Then there were the worries about what else might be out there. That was the most frightening thought, the fear of knowing there were reasons to be scared of the dark but those things didn't have a name. He never thought in a million years that he'd be dealing with actual werewolves. Killer aliens from space, sure he thought that was in the realm of possibilities. Zombie apocalypse due to government experiments with viruses and other biological warfare was also on the menu; he'd fantasized about how he'd kick ass and survive with a double barrel shotgun and a machete. (One particular fantasy involved saving Lydia from a decaying zombie with an impressive one shot blow through the head and she showed him _exactly _how appreciative she was for his intervention. All the while Jackson would be mauled by the horde.) But werewolves never entered mind as something that could be feasible. Werewolves stopped being cool and scary when they fought over a spineless chick with sparkling vampires.

Suddenly, werewolves did not seem like the thing from a lame tween romance series written by a terrible author. They now had the very real and very scary honor of "1000 ways to die." When Scott was infected, Stiles researched everything he could online and in their public libraries limited paranormal section about werewolves. It gave him a sense of control and power to know his enemy but his research brought up more questions than answers. In his research he also came across other beasts thought to be myth and legend. Vampires, changelings, windegos…the list went on and on; all terrifying creatures with horrid ways to kill a human. Did they exist as well? What where the odds that only **one **supernatural creature could be real out of the list of hundreds? Then there was the questions of how reliable were his resources. Some of his findings were verified or debunked by Derek. Others he was left in the dark, he figured it was some sort of "werewolf code" not to let out too information about their kind but it did frustrate Stiles at times. He was only trying to help his best friend and the dark haired outsider was withholding pertinent information that could help.

Still, Stiles knew there wasn't much he could do to help Scott. There wasn't much he could do about anything and the helpless feeling was one of the worst parts of being in the middle of the entire mess.

If worrying about werewolves wasn't bad enough, worrying about the plethora of mythical creatures that every civilization had across time was beyond stressful. Stiles had toyed with the idea of asking Derek but he quickly dismissed the notion. The loquacious teen knew he was on the stoic werewolf's bad side and he didn't feel like being threatened with his throat torn out anytime soon. His nightmares sufficed in keeping his mouth shut for the time being.

So he was back to square one. He was exhausted but wide awake with nothing but his morbid thoughts and fears. He was tired to the point of recklessness because he started to stop caring about what happened to him.

"Fuck this. I can't sleep and I can't stay here," Stiles said to himself after several long moments. He couldn't check the clock a million times with the time not changing anymore. He couldn't stare at his ceiling as it wasn't enough to distract him from his thoughts. His room had turned into a cage of his never ending worries and even though it was one in the morning, he needed a change of scenery. He even ignored the paranoid thoughts of creatures, or the Alpha, jumping on him in the middle of suburbia.

"Fuck it. If I get attacked then I get attacked. It's better than lying in this room worrying all goddamn night."

Stiles quickly jumped out of his bed, clad in nothing but blue plaid boxers. He threw on a well worn pair of sweats and a hoodie. It was a chilly, sixty degrees, October night in California; he could easily see his breath condensate in the air. The cold atmosphere hitting his face felt refreshingly crisp. The frigid air filled his lungs and he suddenly felt more awake and alert.

"_Good, if I'm awake and alert at least I'll be able to run if the Alpha decides to go on a midnight stroll as well_," Stiles thought sarcastically to himself.

He wasn't even sure where he was going, if anywhere at all. He knew he wanted to get out of his house and clear his head but walking aimlessly in Beacon Hills was hazardous to ones health. The smart thing to do would be to turn around and go right back to bed but Stiles wasn't known to make the best decisions. He was impulsive and did what he wanted to do without thinking.

This was one of those nights and while he debated with himself what he should do, he found himself in Scott's neighborhood.

His feet had led him to his best friend, the epicenter of the most dangerous part of his life.

In a moment of clarity, Stiles didn't care that Scott was a werewolf. He didn't care that the newly made Beta could rip out his insides and wear them for garters. He didn't' care that the Alpha was loose in the quiet little suburban town. What he wanted, what he needed was his best friend and someone to talk to; he knew that only Scott would understand. Scott had been the only one in his life to ever truly understand him.

It was two in the morning and as Stiles walked to the side of the house with Scott's bedroom window and prepared to climb up, he knew that his best friend wouldn't reject his company. They were so tight that even through the stress and despite the unholy hour, Scott would always welcome him into his home.

Stiles was midway up the lattice when he saw a huge truck enter his peripheral vision and stop in front of a house across the street. He suddenly stopped to check out the odd occurrence and wondered what a big truck was doing in the residential area so late at night. He craned his neck further to see what was going on. He noted that the truck was in fact, a moving truck.

This piqued Stiles' curiosity even further and kept hanging onto the sturdy lattice that had been through many of his climbing excursions to Scott's window in lieu of going through the front door. He didn't pay any mind that he looked like either a teenager sneaking out, sneaking in, or possibly a thief. Most of the neighbors were aware of Stiles' habit on entering the McHale household in an unorthodox way but the apparent new neighbors did not.

A red Toyota Rav4 entered his line of sight and parked in front of the moving van. Stiles remembered that the house was for sale and it had been fore a while. The affluent neighborhood was a hard sell due to the housing market. The upper middle class residents didn't bear the brunt of the crash and most stayed put. Those who did want to leave had a hard time selling as few could afford the high asking price; not to mention the various fees, such as from the HOA, that came with the house. The fact that someone had bought the place and it wasn't local gossip was something that boggled the ADD prone teen. What stood out most to the teen was why were they moving in the dead of night?

Out of the red compact SUV came a trio of people Stiles had never seen before. A middle aged yuppie couple decked out L.L. Bean and what appeared to be their teenaged daughter. Stiles didn't have the best vantage point but the girl appeared to be around his age and going through some kind of rebellious phase. She had fluorescent bright pink hair in two small buns on top of her head. She looked sickly pale under the street lights, as if she never saw the light of day in her life. She wore a simple pink hoodie with a pink plaid skirt over black leggings. Stiles thought she had a bit of a prep look to her but her bright hair suggested otherwise. He grew bored with deciphering her looks and observed other things the family was doing.

They weren't doing anything vastly interesting, they simply appeared to be moving in. The couple was directing the moving crew where to go with their heavy burdens, not deigning to help in the slightest.

What else caught his eye was what the movers were moving. He couldn't make out any distinct furniture as they were all covered with moving blankets. The oblong objects looked suspicious like…

"_Holy shit, I know exactly what is going on. I need to tell Scott_."

Stiles then rushed up the side of the house and hurriedly tapped on Scott's window. Stiles cursed the cool weather for forcing Scott to close his point of entry at night. He wanted to get into the house as quickly as possible.

An irate, understandably so, Scott opened the window and was ready to curse out his best friend.

"Do you have any idea what time…"

"Let me in, let me in, let me in!" Stiles said quietly but urgently.

Scott jumped to the worst conclusion and worried that the Alpha was after his friend.

"What's wrong?" the werewolf asked as his friend fell through the window in an awkward head. The scared teenager didn't let that get him down for long and he was up in Scott's face a second later.

"Dude, you have vampires moving in next door."

Scott donned a look of absolute befuddlement and took a minute to process what Stiles had just said.

"What?"

**Author's Note: Yay first chap of my first fic! Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks!**


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